A quick story: a friend of mine that we'll call Bartin enjoys these kinds of things very much. So much so, that when his auntie passed away, leaving him a few thousand pounds of inheritance, Bartin subsequently spent a few thousand pounds of inheritance money on models and painting kits and rule books and the various accouterments necessary to play the game, despite my protestations that Cardiff is a place with many fine bars that would be happy to help him cure that gigantic money tumour that lives where his wallet used to be.
So when I tell you this boy loves Games Workshop, know that it comes from a person who knows what he's talking about.
Myself, I'm not much of a fan. I get my gaming fix online, where all the maths is worked out for you, but on one of our forays into town I was informed that we just have to nip into Games Workshop quickly.
Then we left. Three. Hours. Later.
Like I said, this isn't my kind of thing, but whilst I was there, watching Bartin good-naturedly argue the finer points of the rules, and observing a group of lads go through all the emotions of a World War II General, I could see the allure of this place. It was a safe haven for them to do what they love, and there are so few of those in the city.
Shops of this type, where people not only come to shop, but also come to socialize and discuss a hobby that they love with people of a like mind are a dying breed. Everywhere else is focused on customer service, rather than customer experience. Being an outsider, I didn't have a clue what was going on in those three hours, but I could tell it was fun for them. And that's good enough for me to like the place. read more